


Santa Baby, Gave Me A Gift

by ForgottenChesire



Series: Hella late 2018 Christmas [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drunken sex mentioned, Implied Sam Winchester/Gabriel - Freeform, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Morning After
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 14:03:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17602721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForgottenChesire/pseuds/ForgottenChesire
Summary: As Dean takes in the frumpled hair and stubbled jaw he comes to a very firm decision. Sam isneverplanning anything ever again. BecauseDeanhadn’t spiked the eggnog. Eggnog thathehad made and not the toxic sludge that Sam made. He had thought about it. Considered it. Almost had. But changed his mind when he saw what Castiel wearing. The angel was not wearing his usual outfit, or even anything close to the tax accountant clothes. Instead Castiel was wearing tight red pants, black boots, and a red jacket. Santa. Sam dressed Castiel up as Santa. Like a sexy Santa. Booze would have lead to drooling over said sexy Santa.





	Santa Baby, Gave Me A Gift

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very, very, very late Christmas present for a good friend of mine. I hope you enjoy it!

Waking up with a pounding head is something that Dean is used to. Doing so after a Christmas party is something he is even more used to. So at first, nothing is out of the ordinary. And then he feels a warm body underneath him. A chest with hair instead of tits. Slowly, like he has a worse headache than he does, he moves so that he can see who is sharing his bed with him.

 

As Dean takes in the frumpled hair and stubbled jaw he comes to a very firm decision. Sam is  _ never _ planning anything ever again. Because  _ Dean _ hadn’t spiked the eggnog. Eggnog that  _ he _ had made and not the toxic sludge that Sam made. He had thought about it. Considered it. Almost had. But changed his mind when he saw what Castiel wearing. The angel was not wearing his usual outfit, or even anything close to the tax accountant clothes. Instead, Castiel was wearing tight red pants, black boots, and a red jacket. Santa. Sam dressed Castiel up as Santa. Like a sexy Santa. Booze would have lead to drooling over said sexy Santa. So booze was nixed.

 

Castiel isn’t asleep. Angels don’t sleep. But they do zone out so that they can connect to Heaven and recharge. There are a few ways that Dean can play this. He can leave the bed and hope Castiel doesn’t ‘wake’ up and try to talk to him. Dean is good at the ‘walk of shame’, at sneaking away but it feels wrong to sneak out of his own bedroom. He could lay back down, pretend to fall asleep again and see what Castiel does. The last option that comes to mind is ‘waking’ Castiel up himself.

 

Dean bites his lower lip as he thinks. Glad that he has the luxury of being able to think about what to do. Something green catches his eye. A sprig of mistletoe on his bedside table. It has the waxy sheen of a fake plant that Dean hates. Which means that he had nothing to do with it. Another strike against Sam ever planning a party again.

 

“You are in so much trouble, Samantha,” he growls, snatching up the fake sprig and sliding out of his bed.

 

His ass aches in that pleasant way that speaks of a night of fucking. Something has dried on the inside of his leg. Not the best feeling in the world and  _ if _ they fuck again, Dean is going to teach the angel how to clean up after.

 

“Is something wrong?”

 

Dean stops, turns around and faces the now awake and sitting up Castiel. There are hickies all up and down the angel’s throat. On his chest. Left there by  _ Dean _ . He had done that. Left those marks. And he remembers none of it. Castiel winces.

 

“Dean-”

 

“Didn’t mean to broadcast that.”

 

The angel pats the bed beside him and Dean moves without thinking. His feet carry him over to the bed and he sits down beside Castiel. It’s not awkward. It’s not strained. Dean watches as Castiel reaches out and grabs Dean’s hand.

 

“Did I take advantage of you?”

 

“No! Jesus.”

 

“You were drunk. Apparently enough to not remember anything about last night-”

 

“I’ve been that drunk plenty of times. You didn’t. Because if at any point I hadn’t had wanted you, I know you. You would have stopped.”

 

“And yet you were trying to slip away.”

 

Slip away? He wasn’t slipping away. He was about to determinedly walk out the door so that he could hunt his little brother down and shove the sprig down his throat. Maybe he shouldn’t be visualizing making his baby brother eat the mistletoe. But he hadn’t meddled when Gabriel had shown up. Alive if a little broken. He hadn’t given in to the urges. Sam should have done the same. It’s in the bro code!

 

Castiel raises an eyebrow at him. Like he doesn’t believe a word that Dean is thinking. And alright maybe it’s not in the bro code but it should be. When the assessing look doesn’t go away. When the comfortable feeling starts to slip Dean snarls, leans in and kisses Castiel. Kisses the angel like he’s been dreaming about for a while. He drops the mistletoe on the bed and takes back his hand so that he can grab handfuls of hair. One of Castiel’s hands rests on the small of Dean’s back, encouraging the hunter to straddle his lap.

 

“See. No advantage was taken. Maybe a repeat of last night should be had?” he asks pulling back. The urge is there. To lean in and kiss Castiel again. And again. And again. It sparks a small memory. Nothing huge. Just him grabbing Castiel by the jacket and dragging him in for a kiss. He thinks he might have said that he was a good boy and wanted his gift from Santa but honestly he’s hoping that he didn’t open that bag of kinks for their first kiss.

 

That gets him a chuckle. Gets him a mouth on his throat and teeth sinking down just the way he likes it. God, he wishes the walls of the bunker where thinner so that he could get a little revenge on his brother. Castiel chuckles. 

 

“I can possibly help with that,” it’s whispered against his skin and full of mischief.

* * *

 

Sam carefully pulls out the hot tray of cookies from the oven that just dinged. The smell of cinnamon is strong in the air and it makes him want to drool.

 

“Castiel!”

 

The shocked shout has Sam dropping the tray on the floor. Cookies skitter and slide across the wood floor as he twirls around to look at a very flustered Gabriel who has a squished bag of piping frosting in his hands. The archangel’s face is twisted up and hands still squeezing the bag.

 

“I did  _ not  _ need to know that Dean could bend that way!”

 

Sam takes a few steps toward Gabriel, stepping over the still hot tray.

 

“We are never interfering in their love life again,” Gabriel says as he gathers what was shown to him through grace and shoves it deep into a box. He never wants to see that side of Dean-o ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:  
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